


Vhenan

by elfcandy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort Sex, Dalish Origin, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Homesickness, Intimacy, Loneliness, My First Work in This Fandom, Oneshot, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Qunari, Qunari Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfcandy/pseuds/elfcandy
Summary: Lavellan longs for the forests, and for the home she is so very far away from. But she finds comfort in the tall Qunari with a deep rumbling laugh.





	Vhenan

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this last night and wrote it all out in a splendid burst of procrastination. Finally living up to my namesake and posting something with an elf in it. :-D
> 
> As always kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are super duper appreciated. <3

The sound of drunken song wafts through the camp from the cluster of men and women swaying around the fire, the crackling sparks dancing up into the cold night sky. 

Yet a lone figure sits perched at the mouth of the forest, away from the festivities, with eyes fixed on the beckoning darkness. It calls to her, the whisper of the wind through slender branches and over clusters of gnarled roots. It carries with it the scent of pine, earth, and elfroot...and it smells of home. How she missed the great forests and fields of the Dales. She would run barefoot through the tall grass, dance with the midday sun, and sit perched in such trees as these for hours, just waiting for the perfect moment to let loose her arrow. 

Here she has no bow, she is no hunter, no dancer, nor a weaver of stories. Here she is only the gift of elements the gods had seen fit to curse her with.  _ Magic. _ She hates it with every fiber of her being. How it’s dark tendrils curl and take root into the very depths of every corner and every crevice in her dreams, rendering the beautiful pictures into distorted foreign nightmares.

She’s been here so long that she has forgotten the faces of her family, the caress of the sun on her now pale skin, and her feet have grown soft and delicate under the confines of shemlen boots. 

_ Halam’shivanas _ , she cannot even see home when she sleeps.

Her long ears perk up at the slight rustle of grass and snap of a twig, and she turns her head towards the Qunari who is approaching from behind. Compared to her he might as well be a giant, but despite this he is eerily quiet- like the cunning Fen'harel stalking it’s supper. 

Still, his heavy footsteps give him away.

He lets loose a deep booming laugh when she spots him easily, clapping a hand on the elf’s shoulder. He is loud to her quiet, and it fits somehow. Like two puzzle pieces that are nothing alike, yet conform together so seamlessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever managed to sneak up on me, you know,” she hums, turning back to stare into the blackness of the woods. “How did you find me?”

He wears a wide grin, taking a seat on the fallen log next to the elf. “I’ve learned that you’re not one for celebrating with ale and song, so I figured you would be here,” he says, gesturing to the forest. “I don’t think anybody else has even noticed the quiet little elf is missing.”

“Nobody besides you.”

“Well, I like to keep tabs on everybody. Makes my job easier.” 

“Oh, and that’s why you’re here? To write in your report that the mighty Inquisitor doesn’t appreciate fun and drink?” 

“Well I don’t think I would describe you as mighty, perhaps short and fiery,” he muses. 

She smiles too, then stands and steps between his legs, bracing her arms against his sturdy shoulders. “So...if nobody’s noticed we’re gone, maybe we could-”

She’s cut off as the Qunari hoists her over his shoulder in a very undignified manner, and steps into the darkness of the forest. He walks for a while as the elf pounds on his back in a weak show of protest, before he sets her down on a soft mossy patch. Then he’s on top of her like a wolf on a deer, sliding her out of her overly lavish robes, and crushing his lips against hers.

They’d done this before, just a few times, but enough that she knows not to expect him to be overly gentle. Not like the soft embrace of a Dalish lover, but something more primal and raw, something that kindles a fire deep in her belly. 

The elf lets out a soft gasp as his hands find their way between her legs, testing the waters. The Qunari grins against her lips at how wet he finds her, pushing a thick finger inside with ease. 

“Somebody’s excited,” he teases, earning an disgruntled grumble in reply. 

“H-hurry up,” she urges, tugging at his shoulders. 

“Patience little elf, this is one of the rare times when I do not have to follow your orders,” he whispers the last bit into her ear and curls a finger up to hit the sensitive spot deep at her core, earning a shiver from the elven woman. He slips in another finger and works to soften the tension of her muscles, pushing the digits in an out in a rhythmic but rough manner. 

He releases her to trail kisses down her tummy, letting his teeth graze over the expanse of smooth skin, straight down her midline as if tracing the invisible continuation of vallaslin. He pauses as he reaches her sex, propping her long slender legs over his horns and sliding tongue against her opening. 

She moans as he works his rough tongue against her clit, and over her inner lips. No matter how wet she is now, it’s going to be a struggle for him to fit. Elves and Qunari were never meant to form union, but that somehow makes the act all the more desirable. As if they were taboo lovers trading kisses in the dark.

His presence is dominating as he looms over her, all knotted muscle and battleworn scars. She still finds herself intimidated by the sheer largeness and strength of his body. He could easily overpower her should he ever be so inclined. Not that he would ever push her to do something she did not wish to, but the thought was exhilarating nonetheless. The way he towered over her in battle, watching her back, and cleaving enemies in two with with steeled blades. If there was one thing he was better at than killing, it was  _ sex _ . 

He bites the tender inside of her thigh, and she knows it’s going to leave a mark, a brand that no one but him will see. 

His belt is discarded and he pulls his pants off with a surprising amount of grace, freeing the hard length of impressive size. He never dawns a shirt though, and she finds it amusing...if not a little distracting, his broad muscled chest always on display. The inquisition had requested him to wear one, at the very least to formal events, but even the ones that unclasp in the front would still somehow  _ always _ get caught on his sharp horns. She giggles at the memory of detangling the Qunari from a ruined crimson uniform and gold sash, as they stole away in the middle of the the Halamshiral summit for a little fun.

The elf opens her eyes to find him looking down at her with an expression she can’t quite put a name to. It almost looks like  _ longing _ .

“Ready?” he asks, with a smile that’s somehow too soft on his rugged face.  

She nods, and he enters her in one fluid motion, like the time he’d had to pull a stray arrow from her gut.  _ One fluid motion _ , he’d promised. 

She cries out, digging her nails hard into the flesh of his shoulder, and the Qunari stifles her with another kiss, rubbing circles on the inside of her pelvic bone to ease the pain. The sensation of being filled, stretched by his thick cock is nearly too much, and she’s always surprised he doesn’t break her in two.  _ Katoh _ has been on the tip of her tongue almost every time they’re tangled together, but despite his rough hands she knows he would never hurt her, not really.

He gives her a moment to adjust to his girth before beginning to move, shallow thrusts earning small gasps from her parted lips.

“You’re tight,” he groans. It  _ had _ been a while, so preoccupied with their noble cause. 

His powerful muscles roll and knit together as he picks up his pace, pushing into her with a practiced restraint. 

She takes a moment to trace her fingers down his vitaar, the toxic warpaint conjuring memories of the ghosts of vallaslin. He thrusts into her all the way, and she can’t do anything but collapse against the ground, body giving out on her under the intensity of the sex. He pulls out and slams back into her again, and  _ again _ . Setting a harsh an unrelenting pace, and hitting the spot deep inside her that blooms with sensitive nerve ending with every buck of his hips. 

She cries out his name as he grinds her smaller body into the soft forest floor. She supposes that in a way this is probably gentle to him. The thought is quickly banishes as a sharp piece of bramble stabs into her back and she winces. 

Perhaps he notices the way her body stiffen in the dark, for with little warning he flips them both over so that she’s seated atop him. And guides her hips down until her bottom is resting firmly against his thighs, the entirety of his shaft buried deep inside her. 

Her lip is swollen bloodied from where he’s bitten her, a trickle of blood dripping down the delicate curve of her chin. The Qunari runs his tongue along her jawline, an act that would be considered brutish and barbaric among the Dalish. Yet she much prefers the Qunari mantra on intimacy-  _ if it feels good and doesn’t hurt anyone too badly, why not _ ? 

“Bull…” she softly moans before beginning to move her hips, rolling them like a river over rocks. Her thighs slaps against him as she sets her own pace, needy and unbecoming of a  _ lady _ , taking in the entire length of his cock with each movement. 

He growls, a low gutteral sound deep in his throat, and sets his hands on her hips for added support. His teeth are barred, and he looks at her through half lidded eyes as though she might be something tasty to eat.

The thought makes her shiver. 

The Qunari becomes inpatient and bucks his hips up in time with her movements, working together to edge them closer to completion. His breathing is ragged now, like a wounded animal, and she can tell he’s close too. Four languid thrusts of his hips and the white hot seer of her climax overtakes her. Her muscles clamp down as if she were trying to smother his cock, tight rhythmic twitches, and it pushes him over the edge as well. He growls her name as if laying claim to her, spilling his seed deep inside of the tiny elf. 

She barely manages to pull herself off his cock before collapsing against his sturdy chest. The Qunari wraps an arm around her, shielding her from the bitter chill in the air that nips at her naked body. He laughs again, and she can feel the way the low rumble emanates deep from within his chest. As if he were nothing but laughter at his core. 

She rolls off of him to lay pressed to his side, examining his features in the dim light. She knows he can’t see her, Qunari have poor vision in lack of light, and it gives her the chance to observe him furtively. He is not fair or beautiful like the elves, with his scarred missing eye, prickly beard, and bulging muscles, yet he has a ruggedly handsome charm that does more for her than pretty ever could. 

She wonders what this means to him, if it’s just sex or if it’s something more. For that matter, she wonders what  _ she _ wants it to be. 

He smells of ironworks, spices, and fine ale, not like the endless rolling green forests of the Dales. Yet he  _ is _ home. Her one sanctuary amongst the heavy churning gears of war and backhanded Inquisition politics she has become martyr to. 

_ Vhenan,  _ she decides. 

Home is where the heart is.

**Author's Note:**

> Fen'harel- dread wolf, an old elven god  
> Halam’shivanas- the sweet sacrifice of duty  
> Shemlen - human, an elvish slur  
> Vallaslin- dalish tattoos, a tribute to the gods inked into their skin at the coming of age  
> Vhenan- my heart, a term of endearment  
> Vitaar- qunari warpaint, poisonous to other creatures
> 
> I prefer the format of passed tense writing I've used in my other stories, but wanted to experiment a little. I have some more ideas for Iron Bull stuff, so I may squish this into a series at some point. :-)


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